


I Wouldn't Hurt You

by mxy



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Baz loving his bb, Bisexual Simon Snow, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fight turns into cuddling, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Baz Pitch, Gay tension, Heavy Angst, Housemates, M/M, No Humdrum (Simon Snow), Pre-Book: Carry On, Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Roommates, SnowBaz, Tension, Watford, Watford Eighth Year, Worried Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxy/pseuds/mxy
Summary: Simon's insistence on keeping the windows unlocked leads to Baz hastily spelling them closed. However, his spell goes beyond locking the windows and ends up being slightly more permanent than planned...





	1. Simon

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for some use of profanity.

 

The Anathema was rigid.

It was activated by very small acts of physical aggression: a half shove, a thump on the forehead, even an overly enthusiastic fist bump.

Most Watford pupils thought it was fair, most after their second or third year forgot it existed. That was most Watford students, _not_ the roommates in Mummers Houses' tower.

It was a typical Friday night. The sky was painted with a stroke of deep navy, dotted with bright stars that glittered like diamonds against the horizon. The campus was quiet and as lights glowing from the windows of the Cloisters and Mummers houses flickered off one-by-one the campus became lit solely by the courtyards magickal lights. An autumn breeze carried normally inaudible sounds like the merwolves splashing their tails or the faint whispers of wood nymphs into the remaining opened windows at Watford.

Well, there was _only_ one opened window.

“Shut that fucking window, Snow. It’s deathly cold and I can hear the bloody merwolves mating,” Baz hissed.

Simon rolled over in bed fighting the urge to say _Nothing can be deadly when you’re already dead_. But he swallowed his pride and buried his face into the pillow. He had absolutely no intention of shutting the window.

None whatsoever.

A minute passed before Baz in fury cast, **_“Closed for business!”_ **

The window slammed shut and locked itself. Moments later the front door—which was already closed—locked itself with a faint clicking sound. It was an odd spell to use just to close a window, but Simon rolled over, pulled the duvet closer to his shoulders hoping to doze off to anything but the sound of Baz’s breathing.

“You’re such a prat,” Baz huffed.

Simon was too tired to argue, and when he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed slumber, his fears morphed into inescapable nightmares.

Simon and Penny were in front of the Humdrum who had taken the form of a younger-looking Simon Snow with the same bronze curls and clumsiness. But, this younger Simon had a deranged grin plastered to his face, one of which Simon swore he never had at that age. (Baz would disagree of course).

Simon and Penny were just about to launch themselves at him with blades and curses, when the Humdrum tossed his red ball in the air, snapped his fingers and froze the pair so they were rooted to the ground; unable to move. He caught the red ball with the same hand he used to snap his fingers and trailed toward them.

“I’ll take something away from you,” the Humdrum said to Simon beaming, “More nothing for you. More nothing for me.”

He smiled placidly, snapped his fingers again, and in the next instance, Penny and the Humdrum were gone.

Simon was freed from the spell.

He screamed every spell he knew, but it was futile and soon the darkness overwhelmed to the point where he collapsed on the ground with tear stains on his cheeks

When he raised his head there was Baz. His smile full of white daggers tipped with scarlet and his voice was raspy when he snarled, “Finally, I can finish you.”

The last sound he heard before waking was the Humdrum’s devious laugh.

“Wake up!”

Simon jolted upright in bed, sweat glistening on his skin, heart pounding against his chest. Always the same nightmare, a distorted memory from the year prior. The one and only time in his life he had felt powerless.

“The Chosen One is awake,” Baz said bitingly. “Only took a half a dozen tries.”

Dazed, Simon rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat accumulating on his brow. He tore off his shirt that had been somewhat dampened with moisture and stood from the bed, only to be blocked by Baz. His smooth, raven hair fell effortlessly, framing his sheet-white skin and silver eyes.

He was a vision.

“Anyone told you it’s not polite to stare?” Baz sneered, frankly staring right back at Simon.

“I’m not taking etiquette tips from you,” Simon replied magic suddenly filling him. His magic did that sometimes, it would flood him at emotional times.

Simon shouldered passed his roommate opened his wardrobe and collected his uniform before making a beeline to the bathroom to shower and change.

When he emerged out of the bathroom, groggy from his shower, he barely had time to register why Baz was feverishly casting spells at their shared door, since all he saw was his roommate’s dark hair slick with moisture and sticking to his forehead. His brow was in a tight line as he flicked his wand to his perfectly articulated spells, with his grey eyes, determined, and glowing in the morning light.

Finally, Snow was snapped out of his reverie when Baz slammed his fists into the door and groaned a long string of profanities.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked already walking toward him.

Baz ignored him and trained his gaze to the door. He fired opening spell after opening spell, but the door was immovable.

“Fuck.”

Simon was now in between Baz and the door, wide-eyed and hungry for answers, also he was now dripping in magic, “What happened?”

Baz ignored him and cast, **_“Open sesame!”_ **

Nothing.

**_“Open for business!”_ **

Nope.

**_“Slide to Unlock.”_ **

The door cracked ever so slightly as if it was  _considering_ to open, then in the next second slammed shut. Defeated, Baz pounded his fist against the heavy oak door.

“It’s bloody taunting me. This is hopeless.”

“What _happened_?”

Baz rolled his eyes and prowled over to Simon.

“I spelled the door and window shut last night because _someone_ wouldn’t shut them, but apparently the spell is more permanent than I realized.”

“Use another spell to reverse it.”

“You really are daft,” Baz deadpanned. “I’ve tried every spell. Even spells in Latin, Egyptian, and Arabic. So unless you use your miracle powers, we’re out of luck.”

They both knew Simon would never use his magic on trivial matters, he could easily unlock their room, but at the potential cost of unlocking every door in a ten-mile radius, maybe even breaking every door. His uncontrollable magic might even mistake Watford’s wards as barriers and break them as well.

It’s possible. Anything’s possible with Simon Snow.

“We’ll just get help from someone on the outside,” Simon said hopefully.

He turned toward the door and began yelling, kicking, fighting at it. The door was a concrete wall, he tried the window. Same situation.

Baz laughed from behind him.

“Watford has spells that protect the architecture in case of damage.”

Simon ceased his outburst.

“Penny will come for us. Someone _will_ come for us,” Simon swore more for himself than anything else, because he couldn’t be in a room all day with Tyrranus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

Baz scoffed and ran a hand through his hair.

“The Watford’s football championship is today in Manchester. The tournament lasts all day and the celebration is all night. All of Watford is there, even that goatherd of yours. Everyone is there,” he explained.

 _Except us_ , Simon thought solemnly.

Tired, defeated and hungry Simon slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sat on the floor. His eyelids lowered and his legs curled toward his chest. He was exhausted, his nightmares from the night before swam in his mind, clouding his judgment, and overtaking his brain like neuropathy.

His thoughts drifted to the Humdrum. To everything he stood for, and what he was after, and Simon realized what he needed to do. Now, that he had Baz’s undivided attention he needed to ask for something that he knew the other would gladly oblige to.

 _I can’t have people lost because of me_ , Simon thought.

“Stop looking so pathetic, Snow.” Baz mocked from the other side of the room as he cast various spells to make his pencil dance across the floor.

“Sorry,” he said.

He meant it.


	2. Baz

Baz was horrid.

He trapped himself in a room with Simon Fucking Snow.

It was bad enough having to spend nights with the other, but now considering that Simon was the _only_  source of entertainment for an entire day, it would be torturous. Absolutely impossible.

His whole body wanted to lurch over to the boy on the other side of the room and do everything to the golden boy.

 _Everything_.

But, instead, he teased, taunted and threatened to kill him as soon as they weren’t stuck in a room with the Anathema looming over their heads, and Simon—who normally fought back, albeit poorly—was taking ever jab with no defense. No self-preservation whatsoever.

His sky blue eyes were weary and trained to the floor, his bronze curls were damp from his shower, his shirt was left unbuttoned and Baz was exercising every remaining ounce of refrain he had not to drag Simon over to him and lick that patch of exposed skin.

 _Crowley, does he have to look like a Hollister model_ , Baz thought.  _It’s bloody repulsive_.

But despite this he sensed the behavior in him so he asked, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.”

He scoffed and pressed on, his bravado hiding his true concern, “Are you depressed?”

No answer. Instead, Snow turned and looked into the window and gulped, then raked a hand through his already tousled hair.

Baz wanted to do that. Rake his hands through Simon’s hair.

He wanted to do a lot of things.

But to save himself from any more pain he fixated his eyes on the bookshelf and drowned in the silence.

“Kill me,” Simon murmured breaking the silence. He closed his eyes, licked his lips and said, “The Humdrum wants  _me_. I need you to promise to finish me, so the problem’s solved.”

Everything in Baz stopped.

“Where’s this coming from?” Baz tried his best to keep his voice sounding sour and demeaning, he rose his voice into falsetto to sell the facade, “The Mage didn’t give you a cake for your birthday did he?”

“I can’t have anyone being at risk because of me.”

He had to be bluffing.

He had to be crazy.

But Baz felt torn. His heart broke looking at Snow whose eyes were glistening with tears that he was trying desperately to hide, his lip quivered uncontrollably and his wand was being bent back and forth in his hand.

Snow stood from the ground and sauntered to the window, touched the glass pane, his figure was surrounded by a halo of golden sunlight and shimmered with his own magic was a vision.

He was a vision. Always.

“There’s not a future for me or anyone else close to me if I’m alive,” he said sniffling, “If I’m alive nobody’s safe. I need you to promise to do the right thing and kill me before the—”

“I won’t,” the words rushed out before he could even stop himself.

He wouldn’t be able to. Ever.

“Sod off, Baz. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

Wrong.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Baz whispered. Thoughts of his disappointed family surfaced but he pushed them farther down and trained his gaze on the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“Fuck  _off_ , Baz.” Tears streamed down his cheeks.

He was moments from taking it all back when the smell of sage and smoke filled his lungs. Snow was about to  _go off_.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he sprung up and tore over to the other, and put up his hands on both of his shoulders and couldn’t stop himself when he took the other into an embrace, wrapped his arms around the small frame of Snow and felt every fiber in his being  _beg_  for more.

More of the golden boy.

More of The Chosen One.

More of Simon Snow.

More of the only thing he’s ever wanted.

But as his roommate folded into his embrace, the tension slowly left both of their bodies and he felt Snow’s arms snake around his neck, he had to stop himself. He shouldn’t do more. Couldn’t. This is it. Snow probably doesn’t even want  _this_ , he’s just depressed and probably having Penelope withdrawal, and Baz is his only support system.

But Snow’s steel blue eyes glittered up at the vampire, and if Baz had a heartbeat it would be pounding against his chest, safe to say his judgment was severely clouded.

“Promise me,” Snow begged in a whisper.

“I can’t,” Baz whispered.

“Why?”

 _So many reasons. First being, I love you_ , he thought. But chose to say, “Because granting me permission would take all the fun out of it.”

Snow laughed weakly and Baz wiped a tear from his eye.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Snow asked completely unsure of the answer.

The fact that Snow was uncertain, killed Baz more than when he was bitten by that vampire in the Watford nursery.  

“Never,” Baz deadpanned, “Even  _if_ I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

Simon thought for a long moment and the pieces suddenly clicked together.

“What do you want with me then?” He asked quietly.

Baz leaned in, gulped and asked a silent question to Snow who wordlessly answered by pushing a loose strand of Baz’s hair out of his eyes.

Baz felt reborn from that touch.

So, he tipped Snow’s chin upward and touched their lips together.

When they pulled back he held the golden boy for hours and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, while softly stroking his hair and cheeks. His voice barely rose when he said...

“I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.”


	3. Simon

 

Simon was hopeful. Finally. 


End file.
